


Of Halls Painted Red

by Artabria



Series: Tumblr fics [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, The Arkenstone is Maedhros' Silmaril
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 12:18:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2651804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artabria/pseuds/Artabria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble. There are whispers about a new treasure in Erebor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Halls Painted Red

**Author's Note:**

> Dislcaimer: I don't own anything.
> 
> A/N: This drabble (229 words, according to Word) can be considered a gift for between-the-click-of-the-light, because I was inspired by her post.
> 
> Among the consequences of this AU, there's the fact that Thranduil going to Erebor had nothing to do with white gems.
> 
> Assumptions/headcanons: Thranduil was born in Menegroth. The Oath was never fulfilled (if someone finds a confirmation that it was, please, tell me!)
> 
> If someone considers that the character tag for Maglor is not needed, just tell me.

Thranduil walks through the bridge, looking forward with an unwavering gaze, his eyes fixed on the throne in front of him. The dwarves whisper among themselves of the Elvenking from Greenwood that has come to pay tribute to the great King under the Mountain.

Let him watch in awe, they think, let him see the jewel in the throne, the gift from this mountain to our kingdom.

Thranduil stops in front of the throne, briefly looking at the king in front of him before fixing his penetrating gaze on the jewel shining over him. He had heard the whispers of the jewel, about the beauty birthed by the mountain that now rested on the throne of this king.

The dwarves see beauty. Thranduil sees another jewel from ages ago, hanging from the neck of one who had once been his king. He sees the Halls of Menegroth painted with the red of their inhabitants and the young princes that were never found.

He can almost hear the dangerous whispers travelling through the air that speak about Erebor's treasure, barely audible among the sea waves breaking against the rocks.

But the Eldar are gifted and hear the words that many dismiss. In the Western coast, a singing voice older than the Sun and the Moon ends its music.

And among salt and cold water, an Oath awakes once more.


End file.
